


the question

by kinpika



Series: signed, sealed, delivered [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: '95 just before the Second Task, Future Fic, Interaction between the Cursed Vault Kid and the Boy Who Lived
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 02:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: No doubt this looked just out of character for those who were brave enough to venture in for an early breakfast. Over Harry’s shoulder, she could see more than one nosey student whispering and pointing. To be fair, it didn’t look at all good for the other Hogwarts Champion to talk to the Durmstrang students, right before the Second Task.





	the question

Natasha gets nearly a third of the way into her toast when a shadow blocks her light.

Around her, the heated conversations between her students stop, and she can feel the idle curiosity in how they all seem to turn. Looking up, ignoring her toast for the sake of interest, she’s quite surprised to see who stood before her.

“Harry Potter? Well, if this isn’t a surprise.” 

To say that the students had a polite reaction was a stretch. Myshkin missed his mouth three times in the process, while Dragovic dropped the jam. Swatting some crumbs off of her paper from Lindholm’s own serving of toast, does Natasha finally look back up. 

“Can I help you with something?”

No doubt this looked just out of character for those who were brave enough to venture in for an early breakfast. Over Harry’s shoulder, she could see more than one nosey student whispering and pointing. To be fair, it didn’t look at all good for the other Hogwarts Champion to talk to the Durmstrang students, right before the Second Task.

Harry was uncomfortable. Not visibly, but she could see it in his eyes, his thoughts. Rolling off him in waves, not quite giving a perfect image, but enough of one that Natasha could only thread her fingers together and wait. “Do you have a minute?”

Eyes suddenly turned to her, from the five brave students willing to wake so early. Natasha only reaches over to tuck the tag of Kohler’s robes in, before she stands. Bosko almost looked like he wanted to say something, before deciding against it. Giving Harry a once over, she lets her eyes drop to her students. Doesn’t hesitate to switch to German, and ignores how she was critiquing their manners only moments before, and now she did this. “I’ll return soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

A few nods, a chorus of ‘yes, professor’. With a wave, she motions for Harry to lead. Somewhere hopefully out of the way, from prying eyes and ears. Although, when she clasps her hands behind her back, Natasha knew it was going to look bad either way. Karkaroff would have a field day, no matter if she refused Harry’s request or not.

“I must remind you, I cannot talk about the Tournament.” 

They had made it to the Clock Tower, up one of the windier staircases that wrapped around it. Natasha speaks as she looks up. She wondered if it was still possible to climb up the way she used to. Not like anyone but her had attempted it at the time. Ah, memories. 

“I know. That’s not what I was going to ask.”

Natasha smiles, trying to ease him a little. “I just had to say it out loud for anyone listening in.”

Harry makes an inaudible ‘oh’, before turning to look out the carved stone windows. Over the courtyard, where many a student were practically skipping around. With the Second Task so close, it didn’t surprise her that their attention was taken away from study. 

Settling on one of the steps, she rests her chin in her palm. “So, what did you want to ask?”

She’d put him on the spot, but with how he was staring, how his thoughts were muddled, Harry had almost talked himself out of it. Switches his weight from foot to foot, as if that would help him sort out whatever he was worried about. And his refusal to meet her eye was just making her work that fraction harder. “Harry, what is it?”

Not that she had much of a leg on herself. Hardly knew the boy, when it came down to it. Sure, she’d heard the stories — but who hadn’t? Charlie had mentioned bits and pieces here and there, that was second or third (or fourth) hand information. Just like how the Daily Prophet had been detailing the current Tournament, Natasha had taken everything with a grain of salt. Even their brief meeting at the World Cup would barely count for a wealth of information on who he was. After all, she’d been admittedly far too distracted by Charlie, and everything else that followed.

“How did you do it?” Finally he turns to look at her, a little more steady. Still not awfully confident, but it was a step forward in conversation at least.

“Do what?”

“Deal with _this_.”

Natasha could guess at what he was talking about, quite easily. Rita Skeeter’s newest piece was quite scathing and incredibly wrong. But Natasha knew Rita, and she knew her readers. They would eat up anything the woman put on paper. With a sigh, it’s her turn to be distracted. Looking up again, seeing the great pendulum swing through the carved stone, she thinks on her answer. Has to, really, as there were a lot of ways to go about it.

“Harry… to be fair, I didn’t start my schooling with having been responsible for the death of the Dark Lord.” Tries to keep her tone light, airy. A smile that picks up the corners of her mouth. “So I don’t know if we can really compare.”

She would almost call him skittish, with how he paces in the small amount of space they have. “Ron told me about ‘vaults’, or something like that. Said Bill mentioned them being around in his years at school.”

“Mm, they _were_ around. Not anymore, I don’t believe.” Natasha doesn’t want to pat herself on the back for that one. Doesn’t want to think about the vaults anymore. _Can’t_ say that.

“I’m not asking about what happened in them.” Harry is snappy, but it’s not an attack. Like a reflexively quick response, as if he understood. Don’t want to talk about it, don’t bring it up. Out of everyone in the world, this fourteen year old might be the only one. Natasha finds herself appreciating that, even if it means he taps his foot three times. “You probably heard about—”

“A Chamber, Third Floor and… Dementors in a forest? From lots of places, really. Even Durmstrang has heard of your exploits. They admire you,” she adds as an afterthought, because it was true. Especially after his performance in the First Task. They hadn’t stopped talking about it for the rest of the night. 

Harry smiles, if a little ruefully. Natasha finds herself continuing anyway. “Getting up to crazy, death-defying things has to happen to someone. Comes a bit more naturally to some more than others, I suppose.”

With a hand pushing the hair out of his face, Natasha gets a quick second look at the scar that burned across his forehead. “It’s just how you’re able to deal with the aftermath that really matters. After the… vaults.” Swallows a little harder than she should’ve, but he didn’t seem to pick up on it, “it just wasn’t the same, not really. Always something there, to remind me of what I had done, and what I was going to do.”

She hears a very quiet: “Why didn’t you stop?” Harry was looking at her, curiously. Like he was perhaps seeing another side. The one she didn’t show very often. Made her wonder just how those who knew her talked about her, or how unaware of the magical world Harry truly was. 

Natasha shrugs. “I couldn’t. There were times I wanted to — I really did. But I just felt compelled to finish them. Even with people talking about it, in papers and magazines and even just in the library. I had to do it.

“Even if the reason why I was doing it got lost along the way, I kept going.”

Harry falls quiet, and Natasha can finally hear his thoughts clearly. He was running over many different things, and unaware of her intrusion. Many things to do with the publicity, the effect on his friendships, what people thought of him. Itty bitty things, that build up over time. Natasha knew, of course she did, just what happened when it all started to finally break.

“To answer your question: I didn’t _do_ anything. Especially not alone.” Let’s her words sink in, as she pushes herself to stand. “I had friends with me the entire time, even if the public forgets about them. I had teachers who trained me, cared for and protected me when it was needed. I even fell in love.” At that, Harry’s face visibly twists at her comment, and Natasha has to laugh. “What I’m saying, that I didn’t ‘do it’ alone. It’s too hard to.”

As she makes her way down, Harry does too, two steps behind. A silence falls over them, tender and understanding. Like they’d made some headway. Natasha doesn’t think about how she suddenly feels remarkably older than she should at that thought. 

Just outside the Great Hall once more, Natasha can see her students scanning the area, until they see her. Poliakoff and Thorn had joined them, apparently. Only a handful left and then they could return to their classes. 

Harry drags his feet, not quite entering. With a quick scan, not noticing anyone particularly nearby, Natasha gives him a soft look. “It’s not something that’s going to happen overnight.”

“I know.” At least he’d managed to raise his head, and Natasha would dare to say he actually looked a bit brighter. Like a small amount of colour had returned.

But there were more questions. Overlapping ones now, all too loud for him to decide on. Things about Karkaroff, Vaults, Weasleys, Second Task. Nothing that he could decide on just yet, all batted away and ignored, never to be brought up again. 

“Thanks.” Short, sharp, shiny. And here she had been lead to believe Harry was full of conversation.

Natasha pulls a face, a half shrug, a wave of her hand. “I didn’t give you the secret to dealing with success, sadly.”

Except she apparently still had the power to draw a fine laugh out of him. “No, it’s okay. I think I got what you were saying.”

With another round of thanks, Harry turns to walk away. And, just as he does, Natasha remembers one last thing. “Oh, Harry?”

Several other heads turn, as his does. A deep frown set between his brows. “Yeah?” Hyper aware of how others had slowed down in their tracks to listen in. The last of her students were walking through the entry hall too, looking between her and Harry.

“Tell Skeeter, that if she bothers you again, Natasha Rhodes will eat her _alive_.”


End file.
